The Hawke is Born
by bringmeadragon
Summary: Champions have to start somewhere. At the brink of womanhood a young girl struggles to find the courage to overcome her dark past. Everyone has a backstory; this is Siobhan Hawke's. Short story and prologue to "It's a Long Road to the Deep Roads."


**Author's notes:**

I don't **always** write prologues for my stories, but when I do they become short stories unto themselves.

Beneath her scathing wit, spectacular foxiness and all around awesome sauce coated-ness, my Dragon Age 2 character Siobhan Hawke has a lot of angst. In order to get my thoughts straightened for the full story "It's a Long Road to the Deep Roads" I wanted to pinpoint the exact moment Siobhan Hawke morphed into, well, Siobhan Hawke. Everybody has a childhood and a backstory - this is hers. Since it's told from a young person's point of view I tried to keep the writing style simple, so we'll see how that goes.

I made up Sower's Boon because, well, I felt like it.

As a disclaimer I obviously own nothing to do with Dragon Age, etc. I am not nearly that cool.

This is rated "Mature " because it has what many will consider disturbing subject matter. Reader be warned.

* * *

The blade flashed in the sunlight as Siobhan turned it over in her lap, studying its dull edge and simple wooden handle. She tried to focus only on the knife as she sat on the wooden fence in her usual spot and huddled away from the three boys behind her, fearfully hoping they would leave her be if she ignored them. Eddard was always the most vocal of her tormenters, and he was out in full-force with catcalls and lewd phrases Siobhan sometimes heard when passing the local tavern. Eddard's perpetual companions Oliver and Pont hung back and giggled along, at times offering a phrase here or an adjective there. Eddard's favourite words to sling at her seemed to be ones that rhymed with her name; "hard-on" with "shee-vahn" and the ever-creative term for rooster with "Hawke".

It hadn't always been like this. When her family had first arrived in Honnleath a year and a half ago Siobhan had gotten along famously with the trio, which was no surprise. She'd always gotten on better with boys than she did girls, and along with her younger brother Carver had been treated like royalty among local boys for their newness and exotic history – most of which was, of course, made up. Her family moved around frequently out of necessity, and it was imperative that they keep many aspects of their identity a secret, especially when it came to their father. Currently he was posing as a sell-sword, a fact that leant the Hawke children an air of mystique and gained them immediate friends among the children of his cohorts. Or at least, it had.

It seemed like Siobhan's body had changed from that of a lanky child to that of a _woman _overnight. Her younger sister Bethany, Carver's twin, had professed excessive jealousy over her sister's new appearance, constantly calling her beautiful and even having the gall to ask if she'd bled yet. As if _that_ was something she'd share with an empty-headed eleven-year-old! Thirteen-year-old Siobhan hated her new appearance with a fiery passion. Besides the constant ache of growing pains she had to deal with a much different kind of pain, which came from embarrassment – and shame. Growing into a woman hadn't meant the poetry and magic Bethany seemed to think it would; it meant swordplay and battle lessons became circuses of males worried for her safety, it meant she could no longer fit into her old boy's clothes and had to wear things that never hid her figure as much as she wanted, and it meant men leered in a manner that made her feel sick to her stomach. It meant an expulsion from her comfortable identity as "one of the boys", and the loss of the only friends she had in the whole town. Worse, it meant taunts and jeers and jokes from her age mates. She didn't want to be a woman any more than she wanted her friends to turn against her and treat her like an outsider, but in either case Siobhan hadn't been given a choice. Since Bethany's friends only wanted to play dolls and royal-kingdom and happy-family all day and Carver acted as if her puberty was really the plague, Siobhan found herself spending plenty of time alone – trying her best to avoid her tormentors.

From her spot on the fence Siobhan could watch the campsite just outside of town, the place where a band of travelling mercenaries were staying. Or at least they'd called themselves mercenaries; Siobhan had heard whispers that they were really bandits, or criminals, or something worse. She'd seen them in town; usually a rough-looking man or two spilling from the tavern or stalking the streets menacingly, but it was the lone woman she was fascinated with. She looked fearsome; tall, raven-haired, and covered with patterns inked across her dark skin. Yesterday evening Siobhan had sat on the fence and counted all five men leaving the campsite for Honnleath's tavern, and had found the courage to sneak toward the site. Her bravery had been rewarded; that's where she'd gotten her new knife, although yesterday's bravado had seemingly left her.

"Siobhan, Siobhan, Siobhan!" Eddard sang, leering. "Won't you come out to plaaaaay with my you-know-what?"

"You can pretend it's one of your wooden swords!" Pont laughed cruelly, while Oliver yelled "Sword fight!" which really didn't make any sense. She shuddered and clutched her stomach, suddenly feeling ill as a wave of familiar repulsion spread over her. She didn't want to remember… but she couldn't help it. The boys' talk was too much for her to bear, because it was too familiar.

Siobhan shook her head and tried to focus her attention back to her knife, but even pricking her finger on its tip didn't help. _"Siobhan, Siobhan, my beautiful little Siobhan." he'd sang, the stench of wine heavy on his breath…_

The biggest secret Siobhan kept, one that even her mother and siblings didn't know, was the real reason they'd left the place they'd lived before last. She was nine when seemingly out of nowhere her father, Malcolm, had insisted the family leave. Sower's Boon was a good-sized farming community in the Bannorn of Ferelden, and the Hawkes had a seemingly perfect living situation there. They'd come to live with Arment Brown, an ageing man with a booming laugh and loud demeanor the rest of the town adored. Since he had no real family to speak of they told the rest of Sower's Boon that the Hawkes were distant relatives, when in reality he was an apostate sympathiser her father had met through underground connections. Arment had an expansive farm with many workers to look after and a two-storey farmhouse that was so big Siobhan even had her own bedroom, on the first floor just off of the common room.

They weren't the first family to have lived with him; nonetheless Arment was very generous to the Hawkes, hiring Malcolm and Leandra as workers and buying toys for the twins. He paid special attention to Siobhan, buying her dresses and balancing her on his knee at the dinner table. But at night his affable demeanor faded away and the monster inside of him came out. For over a year Arment would sneak into her room after her family was asleep and do horrendous things to her, things she still remembered with perfect clarity …

Siobhan had never told her parents, or the twins, or _anybody_ about Arment. For one thing nobody would have believed her – a man as perfect as Arment would never do that – and besides, Arment himself gave her plenty of incentives to stay quiet. At first he'd threatened her, but he quickly learned that wouldn't work when Siobhan had begun to protest. Then he'd threatened to hurt her parents, or kick them out, even try to kill them. That hadn't worked either. It wasn't that Siobhan didn't believe him, but she knew her parents would be able to protect themselves even if they couldn't seem to protect her.

No, what ensured that she stay silent and endure his unwanted attentions was Arment's threat to do the same to Bethany. The thought of Bethany experiencing even a taste of Siobhan's nightly horrors was too much for her to even think about. So for nearly two years she lay still, she kept quiet, and she internalized everything she felt toward Arment so she could go about day by day as if nothing was happening.

But one night, everything changed. Leandra and Malcolm had been convinced to join some friends in town, and Arment had graciously offered to stay home with the children. Arment had allowed all three children to ladle their own barley stew from the pot and helped the younger two cut thicker pieces of black bread than they were usually allowed. As the four of them sat at the table the twins chattered away… but Siobhan noticed that Arment had begun looking at Bethany queerly. She tried to ignore it and smiled whenever Arment looked her way, but a leaden ball of dread settled in her stomach when at the end of the meal Arment balanced a laughing Bethany on his knee. She didn't know what she would do, but at that moment Siobhan knew she would stop at nothing to protect her sister.

That night she wasn't cowering in bed when Arment entered her room. She was hiding by the doorway, waiting in the dark for him to enter. As soon as he shut the door and bathed the room in flickering light from the candle he held Siobhan pounced, brandishing a cooking knife she'd filched from the kitchen. The candle dropped to the floor and rolled for a moment as the nine-year-old girl had struggled with the fully-grown man, before it sputtered out and filled the room with darkness. Siobhan had managed to slash him shallowly across his chest before he caught her wrist and twisted, the pain forcing her to cry out and drop her knife. But something inside of her had broken, letting the swell of rage she'd carefully hidden away flood out, and she knew she wouldn't be able to endure anything from him ever again. She fought against him savagely as he roared in pain and threw her to the floor. She felt his hand clench around her throat and in the dimness barely saw him raise the knife she'd dropped –

When suddenly her door had crashed open. Her father stood in the doorway, the light from the fireplace in the next room framing him like a saviour from a hero-song. Arment had stood and moved toward Malcolm, sputtering hurried explanations. The expression Malcolm wore chilled her to the bone – it was one Siobhan had never seen on her father before and hoped to never see again. He turned to her, a mechanical movement, his face cold and silvery grey eyes hard as steel.

"Siobhan, under the bed." Quick as a rabbit Siobhan did what her father said, Arment's confused protests ringing in her ears. Then his words had turned to screams and everything Siobhan could see from her hiding place turned deep orange. She felt a whoosh against her face and pressure at the back of her head as magic stronger than anything she'd ever felt filled the room, and the fierce crackle of flames began to drown out Arment's cries. Then it was over, and everything was dark. Her father had reached under the bed and carried Siobhan to the common room, gently folding her into a wooden chair before resting in a crouch before her.

Although her father had looked like he was back to normal Siobhan thought she could smell the destructive magic emanating from him. She'd shook with fear and sobbed as he had checked her body for wounds – apart from her wrist and a bump on her head, all he'd found were scars in varying stages of healing, remnants from some of Arment's more violent nightly visits. When he was finished her father had tenderly placed his hand under her chin and turned her face toward his. He'd studied her for a long moment before he'd taken her in his strong arms and held her tight.

Though eventually Siobhan would confide in him – and _only_ him – her ordeals, at the time he hadn't asked her any questions. He'd just held her until long after she'd stopped trembling, and then went upstairs and gathered the terrified and confused twins from their room. He'd explained to the three children that their mother was still in town, only about a ten minutes' walk away, but for some reason he'd felt as if he'd forgotten something at home. Long after the fact her father had admitted to Siobhan that he had no idea why he'd felt the need to return to Arment's; somehow, he'd just known that he had to.

Siobhan put on a brave face and comforted her siblings as if nothing had happened while their father hastily packed some bags. Carver pouted and Bethany cried when he told them they had to go to town to collect their mother and run, and both twins had wailed when their father said they had no time to say goodbye to Arment. Malcolm had looked pointedly at Siobhan and said he'd gotten word that the Templars were coming, and she had nodded in understanding. That would be their story, and the rest of the family would remain safely in the dark. As they were leaving the farmhouse Siobhan had glimpsed an immense black scorch mark peeking from the doorway of her room, and it stood out it her memory as proof that her father may have saved her – but magic was what decimated Arment, and it was as much of a hidden danger as he had been.

"Siobhan Haaawke!" Eddard yelled, jolting her back to the present. Her shoulders were starting to hurt from having hunched over for so long. She straightened her back and craned her neck to watch as figures began to dismantle the tents in the distance. Siobhan was disappointed that she likely would never see the mysterious mercenary woman again, but she was still confused with what had transpired during their only encounter. She forced herself to ignore her tormenters and thought back on the events that had transpired the evening before.

After weeks of watching the area from afar, Siobhan had snuck toward the campsite as the sun began to lower in the sky, hoping to get a closer look at the strange group's temporary home. Nobody in the town knew anything about them, and the idea of being the first to uncover the group's secret origins excited her to no end. From her time spent watching the camp from afar Siobhan had learned that the woman usually headed to town much earlier than the men did, so she had foolishly assumed that the place would be empty. She'd had to crouch down and creep through an expanse of tall grass in order to reach the campsite, and thusly hadn't known that it wasn't unoccupied until she was close enough to hear a woman's voice humming and crackle of a campfire being lit. Even though Siobhan was silent as a mouse – she was the best sneaker she knew, after all – the woman addressed her without looking up the moment Siobhan was aware of her.

"I know you're there, little one. Come out."

Siobhan's heart leapt in her throat as she tentatively stood from her hiding place in the tall grass. People had whispered that the "mercenaries" could have been killers; if that was true, then she was in deep trouble. She considered dropping to her knees and praying to the Maker when the woman looked up and lazily motioned her to come closer.

"Sit, little one." The woman's accent was strange, but her face was even stranger; golden rings were looped through her nose and eyebrow and even her lip. They glinted in the light of the fire as she spoke. "What are you doing here?"

"I-I-I-" Siobhan stuttered as she sat, terrified. The woman had stared at her expectantly, awaiting a response. "I… wanted to welcome you to Honnleath?"

The woman threw back her head and laughed so loudly that it disturbed a flock of crows from a nearby tree. The beating of their wings and their cries echoed her silvery voice. "You were trying to sneak around our camp, more like it!"

Siobhan's face had reddened, which made the woman chuckle. "Don't be ashamed, little one. Every rogue must hone their skills at some point. My name is Asha. Tell me yours."

"Siobhan Hawke." She met Asha's gaze with what she'd hoped was bravery.

"Now, you must have had a reason to brave coming all the way out here. What was it you wanted to know?"

Siobhan was struck by the woman's openness, but relieved that she didn't seem inclined to murder her. "Well… where are you from?"

"Rivain."

"Really?" Siobhan had heard of the place, but never met anyone who'd been there before. She knew the tales of sea captains so skilled they were treated like royalty and had heard that they worshipped so many Makers they lost track of their names, but she'd never imagined to meet a Rivaini in the flesh. She'd tried her best to hide her giddiness.

"Originally, yes." The woman reclined on the log she perched upon, giving Siobhan a sarcastic grin. "But where we were before coming here is of no consequence to you."

That seemed fair enough to Siobhan. "Well, why do you have so many drawings all over you?"

"Tattoos? Because I am Rivaini."

"And what about the…" Siobhan gestured across her face. "Rings?"

"Also because I am Rivaini."

"Why are you with all of these men?"

"I am their leader."

Siobhan had studied the woman some more, her interest peaked. None of the women she knew, even the strong ones like her mother, would say that they were in charge of men. They were all wives and mothers and workers, but never leaders – except maybe for the Chantry, but she didn't think that counted. Siobhan doubted that Asha had ever let a man hurt her, or let herself be taunted. But something about the Rivaini's claim had seemed off in Siobhan's mind.

"If you're their leader… why do you still dress like a woman?" She had to stop herself from staring at the revealing shirt Asha wore and the slits up the sides of her long skirt that nearly reached her belt. "If you're in charge of men, why don't you act like them?"

Asha laughed again. "Power comes in many forms, little one. Blades and arrows aren't the only weapons at a person's disposal; a body is a weapon as powerful as any other."

Siobhan was confused. "I know how to fight without a sword, with my fists and legs. But it would be much harder in a dress."

Asha leaned forward. "That's not the kind of weapon I mean, child."

Siobhan stared at her, uncomprehending. Eventually Asha smiled knowingly and straightened. "You'll figure it out soon enough. It will be dark soon – you should run home. But first –" She stood and walked into one of the tents, emerging after a few moments with a knife in her hand, "-you should have this. It is only what I practice with, but it will do for you. Take it."

Siobhan had regarded the knife warily before accepting it, turning it over in her hands. What use could a puny dagger possibly be? "Thank you… but I'm learning to use a sword. This is too small to _do_ anything."

"A girl who skulks about in shadows and fights with her legs and fists is not a girl who benefits from a sword and shield." The Rivaini then shooed her away before she could respond, and Siobhan hurried off. When she reached her fence she'd turned back, but while she could see the smudge of firelight dancing between the tents she couldn't make out Asha.

A clump of dirt hit the back of Siobhan's head, exploding in a rain of pebbles and dust as the trio behind her laughed manically. They were _throwing_ things at her! She thrust the knife into the crude holster she'd attached to her belt, and suddenly Siobhan knew that she'd had enough. Just because she was turning into a woman didn't mean she had to be meek, or quiet, or weak!

Siobhan didn't want to hurt the boys; but she didn't know what else she could do. She thought of her father, who always had a smile on his face and a joke at hand. He would come up with something sarcastic and witty to throw back at them, and while Siobhan desperately wanted to emulate that she didn't have the slightest clue what she would say. She racked her brain for a retort when suddenly Asha's advice popped into her head. _"A body is a weapon as powerful as any other."_

Comprehension flooded her mind when Eddard shouted for her to show him her chest. "A body is a weapon." She murmured, a grin slowly creeping across her face. If Asha could be strong enough to lead an entire group of men, she would be strong enough to stand up to a trio of piddly boys. All she had to do was emulate Asha!

Siobhan climbed off her fence and set her shoulders, standing as tall as she could. When she turned around she noted that the boys were staring at her eagerly, waiting for her to wail and complain so they could egg her on some more. When Siobhan smiled instead looks of confusion spread across their faces; Pont became suddenly fascinated with the ground. She sauntered toward them slowly, moving the way she'd seen Asha move when she walked toward the tent – and never looked down, grinning wickedly at each one in turn.

The taunting smile was wiped from Eddard's face. "You wanted to talk to me, boys?" Siobhan said as she stared him down, her confidence growing. When she finally reached him she lightly tapped his chest, and the touch was enough to cause his jaw to hang freely. Pont and Oliver stared incredulously at Siobhan and Eddard, after a long moment babbling their apologies and scurrying off. Eddard eventually tore his eyes away from hers and hurried after them, though not before turning to look back in awe.

Siobhan chuckled._ Boys_, she thought, as she turned to walk home. For once she felt whole, strong, and powerful. And for the first time in many years Siobhan Hawke was not ashamed.


End file.
